


Downfall

by xiaoysungsz



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiaoysungsz/pseuds/xiaoysungsz
Summary: Everyone knew Ten was no good deal. Everyone kept their distance, nobody really wanted to stain their flawless reputation by being associated with him. After all, appearances were everything in the small town of Ashenville, and getting on the spotlight for being seen with some junkie who made illegal deals for a living and would, without a doubt, end up dead before he hits his 30s was not all that appealing.But Taeyong... Taeyong was never quite like all the people in the town. Lee Taeyong has always been known for his compassion, for always seeing the good where there was only chaos and disgrace.In unusual circumstances, they meet. And an even more unusual friendship rises between the most improbable pair. Nothing could've prepared either of them for the turn their lives would take. Nothing could've prepared them for all the feelings, for all the intensity.For the world, they're each other's ruin.But to each other, they're that missing puzzle piece. The two sides of the same coin. And, why not, their own kind of salvation.[Taeten] • Also posted in Wattpad
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the first story I’ve gathered the courage to publish in English, which is not my first language. Although I’ve done my best to beta-read it and try to make sure that there were no mistakes in this, please note that there may be some, since I’m not a native English speaker. With all that said, thanks for reading it, and I hope you guys like the story!

“Here’s your change. Thank you for choosing _Cake n’ Bake_ , and I hope you have a wonderful day!” Taeyong said, for the fourth time in a row in that dark and cloudy morning, giving the bags with fresh bread and homemade cake to the lady who lived down the street. She smiled at him, talking about what a wonderful boy he was for helping with the family business, before leaving with a smile and a cheerful goodbye. He only dropped the false smile adorning his face when the bakery’s door closed, and he was finally alone, for the first time since they opened that day. 

It was always like this. 

Every single day, with no exception, Taeyong would rise at the crack of dawn. By the time the clock hits 5 o’clock, he would already be downstairs, in the bakery’s kitchen, organizing all the things that should go in the oven, putting fresh biscuits on the display, and cleaning whatever he could, at least until his father decided it was a nice time to show up to work. That is _if_ he decided to show up at all. Because, really, it was always a surprise, knowing if mister Lee, the great baker of Ashenville, would grace Taeyong with his illustrious presence.

Or if he would be too drunk to even get out of the bed. 

Those days, the ones when Mr. Lee didn’t show up, were the most difficult ones. In the absence of his father, Taeyong had to be the baker, the cashier, and anything else that was needed in their bakery. At least until Taeil, his father’s assistant arrived for his shift. 

In normal mornings, though, he would only be responsible for the cashier. Haechan, the grandson of the nice lady who lived in the house right beside the bakery, would help with serving the clients and getting their orders. Taeyong only had to get the money, smile, and be polite. But it was not like that was better. 

Be it in days he had to multitask because of his irresponsible father, be it in days where he got cramps on his cheeks after smiling too much… it was all exhausting. Because it was always the same damn routine. 

Every. Single. Day. 

He looked at the clock and realized that he had at least ten minutes before any other clients arrived. It was kind of a pattern, really. Probably something that only happened in small towns like Ashenville. The old ladies of the neighborhood would be the first ones to arrive, as soon as he flipped “we’re open” sign It was always four of them, and they usually bought the same things, made small talk with each other while waiting for their order, talked about what a wonderful son Taeyong was while paying, and left not even twenty minutes later. The second and last group of morning clients arrived a little after them, these ones coming from some distant neighborhoods. They were in bigger numbers, almost ten people every day, and kept Taeyong pretty busy at least until 10 a.m., always buying a lot of things, and being the ones who really make his cash full at the end of the day. 

He gets some moments of peace until 10:30 a.m. when the last client of the morning shift arrives. He’s always alone. No other people come at the same time he’s there. No one wants to associate with this boy that comes at the end of the morning. No one wants to stain their reputation by being seen in the same place as the black sheep of Ashenville. 

Because that’s what Ten is. The black sheep. The delinquent. The downfall of Ashenville. 

He was a taboo. One no one looked directly in the eyes. One no one knew exactly what did for a living but were absolutely sure it was no good thing. One absolutely every single soul in Ashenville gossiped about. 

One Taeyong, against all sense of self-preservation, was always observing. Always wondering about. Always trying to discover what was his real deal. 

The stories about this Ten guy were many. Some say he works dealing for Youngguk, the notorious drug dealer of Ashenville and also from other small cities nearby. Others say that he’s the guy who comes after the ones who buy from Youngguk, but don’t pay. The only thing the whole town seems to know is that he’s associated with Youngguk. And that alone is reason enough for people to keep their distance. 

In the eyes of everyone, he’s a junkie who lives off making illegal deals and who will, without a doubt, be found dead in a ditch before he hits 30. 

In Taeyong’s eyes, he’s a puzzle. One he struggles to understand every single morning, in those five minutes that Ten takes to buy his fresh bread and a small piece of chocolate cake. One he fails to even begin to understand every time he sees him. 

Because Ten is, indeed, very weird. And he never drops a single word while he’s at the bakery. Only orders, pays and goes away. The lack of interaction makes it impossible to discover or understand anything at all. 

Which maybe is a good thing, after all. Because as much as Taeyong is curious about the boy everyone talks about, he’s also a little bit afraid. Just like everyone else. 

He snaps back to reality in the moment the bell above the door rings, indicating a new client. At the same time, he hears Haechan murmur a very discreet “shit, here we go again”, before putting on a quivery smile and waiting for the newcomer behind the display. 

Ten looks the same as every other day. Dressed in some old black jeans, wearing an old black hoodie. He never really wears any other color. Both his ears are adorned with piercings of different shapes and forms. His black and beaten converses make little squish sounds while he lazily walks through the bakery and stops right in front of Haechan. As every morning, he orders two pieces of fresh bread and a small slice of chocolate cake. Taeyong, who has his eyes stuck on the boy since the door opened and he came in, has to make a little effort to understand what he is saying. Ten always speaks in an extremely low tone. Almost as if he wished nobody could actually hear him. 

But Taeyong hears him, even if he’s at the other end of the counter. The boy’s voice is strong even in its low tone. And that only makes Ten that more intimidating. 

In less than two minutes, Ten is already in front of him, holding his bags and handing him the money. He brings the right amount of money every single day. He is, without a doubt, the fastest client they have, never spending too much time in their establishment. Taeyong would be glad for that, if deep down he wasn’t begging for a little extra minute in the presence of the boy who intrigued him so much. 

“Thank you for choosing _cake n’ bake_. I hope you have a nice day!” Taeyong says, as he receives the payment. Ten barely acknowledges him, only nodding briefly before turning on his heels and leaving the place. 

And just like that, Taeyong most exciting moment of the day is over. Because it’s true, that in a town as small as Ashenville, the only kind of excitement he would have in his very monotone life would be this little glance in the troublemaker of their little society. 

He hears Haechan sighing, just like every morning. Taeil leaves the kitchen almost at the same time, drying his hands on a dirty cloth. 

“Is our favorite client gone already?” He asks, a little grin in his face, while he comes closer to his two friends. 

“Thank God. Now we can finally breathe at ease once more.” Says Haechan, being his dramatic self. 

“I don’t really understand why you get so worked up. It’s not like he comes in here holding a gun and demanding you to kneel and praise his weird self.” Taeil points out, as he walks to one of the little tables they have around the bakery, for clients who sometimes have their breakfast or simply drink some coffee over there. Taeyong’s father already went to their house, right above their bakery, probably still hungover, minutes before Ten’s daily visit. It’s just the three young men now, and it’s the safest moment for a little bit of gossip. 

“Well, yeah, of course it’s nothing like that. It’s just that he has this… I don’t know, dark aura? Every time he comes inside, it’s like a dark cloud of fear and discomfort descends upon us. I can’t help getting tense around the time he comes. I know the little junkie probably wouldn’t do anything weird here. He knows we’re a very serious and family-oriented kind of establishment. But I really can’t help being on edge.” Shudders the youngest of the three, while he lays his head on the top of the counter, as if he were in his own house. 

Haechan and Taeil keep talking quietly until it’s time they close for lunch. They never get any clients between the time Ten leaves and their lunch break. The next big wave of clients only comes at the end of afternoon, when tired citizens finish another arduous day at work and come here looking for some delicious treats to end their day. They have plenty of time to rest and talk. 

A while ago, Taeyong would join the conversation. Would joke around with these two, who were his best friends. Wouldn’t have any worries until it was time to open again. 

But things changed a few months ago. Things changed the moment Taeyong finally started paying more attention to Ten in his daily visits. 

Things changed in the moment Taeyong caught on the way Ten kept looking at the little box with that simple slice of cake. The way he looked at it with soft eyes. With something that looked a lot like affection. Devotion. It changed the moment Taeyong realized that probably buying that insignificant piece of cake had way more meaning to him than anyone could’ve guessed. 

And since that moment, the baker’s son couldn’t stop thinking about Ten’s story. Because he was sure that there was a story, a reason behind all the rumors, all the mystery surrounding that boy. 

And that little softness and affection in Ten’s eyes every time he bought the damn cake only made Taeyong more curious. Only made him think that, maybe, everyone in this town was wrong about Ten. That maybe the boy wasn’t as bad as everyone thought. That he had a deeper reason for being like that. And oh, how Taeyong wished he could discover all the secrets that laid behind those deep black eyes. 

But he knew it was impossible. Because Ten was like an unsolved mystery. And no amount of detective play from Taeyong’s part would get him anywhere near the boy’s secrets. 

***

Another day was ending, and it’s not like anything interesting has happened since Ten’s daily visit in the morning. He and the boys had chilled for most of the time that the bakery remained with no movement at all. Around 4:00 p.m., the clients began to come and go again, and, as always, this period of the day was a little more hectic. They were done with their day by the time the clock hits 20:00 p.m., and Taeil was the first one to leave. Taking off his apron, he said his goodbyes and promised to be here early morning in the next day. Haechan also left as soon as he finished cleaning the counter and the tables. Taeyong was always the last one, and it’s not like it was a problem. He lived upstairs. So, since he never had to walk home after the sun was down, he usually took his time counting the money they earned for the day, mopping the floors and taking out the trash. He never liked to do things in a hurry, and he never really worried about being home for dinner. It’s not like he and his father even had dinner together anymore. These simple family traditions lost their meaning since his mom’s accident, after his father started drinking way too much to cope with the fact that he was grieving for a wife who was not dead, but who was also not alive. And it’s not like Taeyong had any willpower to try and get his father and their family traditions back. His father wasn’t the only one suffering, wasn’t the only one who lost someone he loved dearly. But it was long ago that Taeyong made peace with the fact that he was the man of the house now. That his father was not going to wake up in a magical day and decide it was time to start taking care of his only son again. 

He already accepted that, while everyone in this town thought he and his father were close, that they tried to overcome their lost and their grief together, they weren’t. He accepted that, while they thought he and his father were strong to keep going even among the chaos their lives had become, they weren’t. They were broke. Their family was shattered. And if it wasn’t for Taeyong confronting all his problems quietly and discreetly, if it wasn’t for him pretending that he was not having a hard time at all, everything would have crumbled, including their little bakery. And that was something Taeyong refused to let happen, because that bakery was his mother’s pride and joy. The only piece of her that remained intact. And he planned on keeping it that way. 

As every other night, his father appeared downstairs while he was just finishing moping the floor. He gave Taeyong an apologetic look, before announcing he would be going to the hospital to see his mother and didn’t know at what time he would be back. Taeyong only gave him a short nod, and a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew his father was really going to drop by the hospital. That much was true. It has been like this for the four years his mother has been in a coma. But he also knew that the hospital was not his only stop. He would end his night at that dirty bar in the other side of the town. The only one none of their neighbors or clients frequented. The only place he could drown his tears in the alcohol, until the sun rose again in the next morning. 

He finished cleaning the last bits of the place. Took out the money they made that day and put it away in their little safe box, the one he took with him to his room every night, keeping it somewhere his father wasn’t going to really find it. It was a request made by his own old man, after he lost control over their money at the bar one night and they ended up struggling with the rent and the hospital bills. Despite the many imperfections his father had developed in the last few years, this was not one of them. He still tried to take care of Taeyong and his mother in his own way. He just didn’t really trust himself with the task anymore. So, since that night, Taeyong started taking care of the money, as every other thing in the house. 

Taeyong closed the front door, locking it and flipping the sign to _we’re closed_. He turned off all the lights, and finally went to the back room, where they kept the trashes and the door to the alley where their dumpster was. He was softly humming to a song that was stuck in his mind the last few days, while also planning on what he would have for dinner, and if he would be willing enough to pick up the novel he was reading and try to read at least a few chapters before falling asleep. Those were his true passions: music and books. And the moments he could listen to his favorite artists while drowning in a new story were his favorites. 

He was already closing the dumpster and turning on his heels when he heard it. An incredibly soft, small moan. At first, he thought he imagined it. He took some steps to the back door and was almost inside the bakery when he heard it again, a little louder this time. He looked around. Maybe it was only a cat, having some fun in the late night. It was too dark, so it was not like he could really see anything. He waited a few more moments, didn’t hear any sound anymore, and decided he probably imagined it. It was only when he was locking the back door that he heard a loud thump, followed by another moan, clearer this time. This was no cat, he realized. It was definitely a person. 

Rationally speaking, he knew that going outside again and taking a look on who the hell was moaning at his back door was a dumb decision. But Taeyong, as known by everyone in this town, was that kind of person who had the urge to help anyone who might be in need. And those moans he was hearing? They sounded pained. And soon they started to be followed by even more pained whines and squirms. Someone out there was definitely hurt. It could be a broken leg, a sprained ankle… didn’t really matter. The only thing Taeyong knew was that he had this urge to go find out what was wrong and help if he could. The little noises didn’t stop while he rummaged through the toolbox his father always kept in the back of the bakery, trying to find that flashlight he knew that was there. Less than a minute later, he was already reopening the door, turning the flashlight on, and looking around. 

The first thing he found was little drops of what looked a lot like blood on the floor. _Okay_ , _so maybe this is not only an ordinary case of a sprained ankle_ , he thought, while slowly making his way to the dumpster. He felt a shiver running down his spine because, at each new step, the blood seemed to appear at a bigger amount. _Jesus Christ, please don’t let it be someone who’s dying_ , he started chanting inside his head, because as much as he wanted to help whoever was there, he didn’t think he could deal with something like that. 

Suspecting his stomach would be upset at any time, he decided that maybe the wisest decision would be calling 911. That way he would be helping, and obviously wouldn’t be making a scene of dropping light a deadweight right beside who could become a corpse at any moment, only because he can’t stand the sight of a little blood. 

He fished his phone from his back pocket with his right hand, the left still holding the flashlight, pointing at no specific direction. He was almost hitting the call button when he heard something that sounded a lot like someone trying to talk. He stayed there, quiet for a heartbeat, waiting to see if he would hear anything else. 

“ _P-please, don-don’t call any… anyone. Please, don… don’t.”_ Was what he heard, in a hushed and low voice, but very clear in that silent alley. 

That voice though… that voice made Taeyong almost drop everything he was holding. Because Taeyong knew that voice, even if it was very weak. It was the voice of the only person who brought a little entertainment for his dull days. It was the voice of the only person who was the main topic of talk in the town. The one no one wanted to associate with. 

The one everyone thought would, indeed, end up dead in an alley or in a ditch. 

And for a moment, Taeyong thought he was hearing things. He thought that his little curiosity about Ten was getting the best of him, was making him heart things. Because surely it was not possible… 

He turned his flashlight in the direction of the faint voice he heard. And for a moment, Taeyong wished he hadn’t come back outside to see who was there. He wished he had only gone back, got to his bedroom, and followed the normal script of his every night. 

Because right here, at the side of that damn dumpster, dropped on the ground, with cuts and bruises occupying the better half of his face, his neck, and even the exposed part of his pale chest, was Ten. 

And Taeyong didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do. 


End file.
